The Little Deaths
by TheInsanityPrinciple
Summary: Ada's brief foray into retirement comes to a sudden halt, when the town she is in gets hit by a nice round of T-Virus. Escaping with a man she never expected to see again, Ada's life takes a turn for the weirder. M for gore and some smut in later chapters!


**Disclaimer- I own nothing about Resident Evil, so yeah xD**

** Hey all, this is my first fanfic! I'm not quite sure where I'm going with it, so it might be kinda AU. I tried to keep in character and everything, I hope you like it! Reviews are appreciated :D If I take a bit to get things going in the story, sorry about that!**

**Chapter 1- The Death of Emily**

Ada held a roll of quarters in her teeth like a fat cigar, stained pink with the smears of her soft lipstick. Black headphones purred out a sultry rhythm in her ears as she danced around, looking in the bedroom for her dirty laundry. With every glide and twirl she picked up clothes from the floor, tossing them nonchalantly into an overflowing basket. For first time in a long time, Ada felt relaxed.

With one hand on the railing and another on the laundry at her hip, Ada trotted down the dusty staircase from her apartment to the communal washing machines. Someone had left the window in the laundry room open, and through its screen came the sound of music and rustling dishware, as café patrons filtered around for the evening. A cool spring breeze pulled up the smells of coffee and cigarette smoke from below, offering relief from the room's usual stale air. Sunlight, filtering through the glass, occasionally blossomed into jagged pieces of rainbow along the white walls.

A casual flick of her fingers sent the quarters from her lips to the pile, as Ada tossed her down basket on the floor. Golden and peach rays highlighted her soft pale skin, accenting her lean muscles and lovely long legs. Her loose gray sweater, hinting at lush curves, hung down over the top of her little jean shorts. Her hair, which had been dyed light brown for the sake of disguise, had grown long and rambunctious. Though it tried to desperately to escape, she kept it mostly pulled up under a silken red scarf.

This appearance, though unusually subdued and conservative for Ada, suited her temporary identity well. Here in this small college town, she was the harmless Emily May Scott, a sweet girl who went to work and paid her bills on time. Emily was a new persona, completely separate from Ada's many contacts and former employers, which gave her the space and freedom to create future plans. In the past, she had admittedly put together some very sloppy aliases, but in this case she was thorough. Ada wasn't here on a mission- she was here for protection and retirement. Emily the gentle woman, who lived above the coffee shop and spent a lot of time at the library, did not attract suspicion. Basking in the breeze, Ada cracked opened her roll of quarters.

The day was reaching its end, and soon her elderly landlady should be here with her grandchildren to visit. Though she had never been very maternal, Ada had to admit that the adorable kids brightened her day. Sometimes the youngest would try to sing with the local street musicians. Smiling fondly, Ada leaned closer to the window, pulling her headphones down around her neck as she looked onto the street below.

The silence hit Ada like a train.

She froze, staring at the scene before her. It figured, Ada would later say, that the first time she let her guard fall was the exact moment everything went to hell. She had no idea how long she had been standing there, humming to the music on her ipod, oblivious to any change in the outside world. The streets, usually bursting with activity, were empty. No students or children were there, no musicians or drunks or barking dogs. The clanking of dishes had stopped in the café downstairs.

Something was very, very wrong.

A familiar horror began to gnaw at the pit of Ada's stomach, and the rush of wind through the few trees did nothing to ease the sinking of her gut. Her fear was irrational, she hoped. Wet clothes completely forgotten, Ada backed cautiously out of the room. The sound of her sharp staccato heart beat sent shivers up her spine as she walked toward the narrow staircase, her pulse the only noise around. The hallway was empty, and seemed frozen in time and space, as though it awaited something far greater than itself.

It shuddered in relief, as the screams began.

Ada's mind went blank when the first set of shrieks tore through the night, piercing the void of silence just as soon as it had begun. Bare feet quiet against the plastic lined steps, she dashed up to her apartment, eyes unseeing as her hands unlocked the door. Years of life as a spy had taught Ada to trust her instincts, and there was safety now in a weapon and stealth. She knew what was happening, deep in her four decade bones.

Sliding the deadbolt on her front door, Ada tore her hair free from the scarf, tossing it aimlessly onto the bed. Her room was dim, with no lights and closed curtains, and for the thousandth time in her life Ada was thankful for the cover of darkness. Pulling on flat laced boots and a thick brown jacket, she crouched in front of her bathroom window. The shrill screams of terror were growing closer now.

With one hand ready on a cocked silver pistol, Ada gently pulled a piece of the curtain back. Careful not to let her face be seen, she peered through the crack, and felt her soul shudder at what lay before her. There, two floors down, stood a street musician.

Or rather, his torso.

Entrails oozed from the back of his shirt, seeping thick blood into the gutter where his violin now sat. Shuffling dead slid past his remains, relentless in their slow pursuit of food. Shrieks filled the air as often as flesh, joining the sounds of police sirens and ammunition rounds. People tried and failed to fight the dead with torches, flames bursting from buildings, glass shattering as windows imploded from the force of the fires. More than one crimsonhead was now racing through the roads, stepping over their more limbless comrades, chunks of rotten meat falling off in their wake. An elder female zombie chewed on a now faceless little body just outside the café, adding to the cacophony of disgusting noises and wails. Ada prayed that it was not her land lady.

Ada cringed and looked away, dropping the curtain quickly. No matter how strong she was, or how often she saw such horrors, she could not face them unscathed. She could remain expressionless and powerful, even sultry, in the face of disaster- but in the end, Ada was not heartless. Her trusted grappling gun in hand, she quickly raised the glass of the bathroom window, ignoring the sounds of shuffling and moans outside her front door. This was the only way out, now.

Balancing on the edge of the bowl, she slowly perched herself on the window sill, and began to look for the best place to launch her hook. Adjusting her coat, Ada shot the gun, and swung out over the town like a panicked spider man. Blessing her experience, she moved mindlessly over the screams, terrified but filled with adrenaline. It was time to take a break from retirement.

Goodbye, Emily.


End file.
